Of Assassins and Theives
by marissafish
Summary: All Loki wanted was to live peacefully as a theif. However Fate had another idea; now Loki has to deal with Altaïr, the assassin from Hell. What's a theif to do?


"Look, buddy; if I knew where the hell I am, I sure as hell wouldn't be talking to you." The teen glared at the guards. Her voice had a thick Bronx accent. She was wearing a red long-sleeve shirt with the phrase 'You totally suck at life' on it. Her black jeans were stained with blood, and dirt. The guard laughed and spoke to his fellows in a strange tongue. A man in white came up to the group; looking sharply at the guards while berating them but softening to a gentle smile when he faced her.

"Miss, you are in Masyaf. I will take you to our leader, Al Mualim; he will surely help you." She nodded uncertain at the man garbed in white and she noticed his way of holding himself high; how his chocolate brown eyes seemed to twinkle with knowledge. Just who did this goddamn bookworm think he was? He had the vibes of someone who just wanted to help others and only help others. She didn't need no one's help; especially not this goody two-shoes' help. She followed him to the huge castle that seemed to rise into the sky.

The two arrived at a library and proceeded to where the man's leader was. There was a man on his knees being restrained by another man in white while the third man interrogated the man on the floor.

"You stand accused of betraying our brotherhood and opening the way for our enemies. How do you answer to these charges?" That must have been Al Mualim; he had a sword, spoke as if he was in charge.

"I deny nothing. I'm proud of what I did. My only regret is that they failed." She scoffed quietly; she had enough common sense from living on the streets as a thief, to know not to pick fights you couldn't win.

"I offer you a chance to repent, to renounce the evil in your heart." She shook her head as she laid in wait with the man who brought her in here. Al Mualim gave her a bad vibe; however the man who was restraining the man on the ground, she got troubled vibes from him; like he was in peril.

"It is not evil in my heart, but truth. I will not repent." She shook her head; this man was as stupid as stupid could be; and just what did he mean by truth? '_A complete and utter fool_; _no man would spare a life after that_.' Spoke that snide voice in her head; she shook her head sharply; she thought she had been rid of that voice after she met Aldine. Aldine was her partner in crime, love, and life.

"Then you will die," Al Mualim raised the blade he was holding and sank it into the man's heart. The teen's eyes widen in slight shock. 'Isn't that illegal here?' He pulled the blade out while the man that was holding the man let the now-dead body fall onto the ground. "You did well Altaïr and have earned the right to carry a blade once more. Yes, Syrioan; what is it you require?" The man brought the teenage girl forward.

"I found her at our gates; she is not dressed normality. I brought her here for you to deal with." Al Mualim nodded and turned to face outside, as if deep in thought. The girl smirked, flicked her switchblade open, and leapt at the older man with the intention to end his life. Altaïr rushed forward and pinned the girl to the desk; a goblet clattered to the floor and Al Mualim tuned around.

"What is the meaning of this, child?" She smirked up at him while trying to make Altaïr release her.

"Sorry; just following instincts, they never led me astray before. Why would I believe that they would be wrong about you?" Al Mualim sighed while shaking his head. "Just wondering, but could you tell your flunky to stop pushing me up against the desk? I don't really mind being restrained; it's just that this position is really uncomfortable." Al Mualim nodded and Altaïr slackened his hold on the girl. She quickly elbowed him in the gut thus winding him and she darted to the balcony. Altaïr looked at Al Mualim for direction. The girl grinned at the trio and stood on the railing.

"You all will remember this as the day you _almost_ captured the greatest thief to ever live, Miss Loki Disraeli." She half-saluted them and leaned back to fall off of the railing. Al Mualim shouted to Altaïr who then jumped from the platform and caught Loki bridal style.

"You are either a fool or incredibly brave. Which is it?" She smirked and elbowed him in the nose.

"The latter; now farewell, little flunky; I'll see you in the next life." Altaïr growled and ran after Loki. This was _his_ city; she wouldn't lose him here. She raced though the crowds and sat quickly on a bench. Altaïr paused next to her, looking around wildly. He sighed and leaned against the wall. Loki's heart rate picked up, why wasn't that damn flunky leaving? Altaïr sighed again and went back in the direction of the castle. Loki smiled and stood up once he turned the corner.

She started stretching; Altaïr was on the building above her. Once she was in position he would pounce. Loki smiled and walked close to the buildings while singing under her breath. She stopped, shrugged her shoulder, and moved to where a man was preaching a few hours ago. She pulled out a small, blue rectangle, and two small black boxes that was attached to a third small black box. She crouched over it and when she stood up, sound came out. She began singing and dancing; sure she was making a scene but who cares? This is a group of people who never heard of her; they wouldn't judge her until she gave them something to judge.

"Who is that girl?"

"I don't know, but she sings amazingly; and do you see how good she is at dancing?"

"She must be an entertainer. Al Mualim sent down his best artist for us! How nice that man is." The others murmured in agreement; this strangely dressed girl must be in the service of Al Mualim. Altaïr growled, this girl, Low-key, was causing too much attention. How was he supposed to bring her back to Al Mualim for judgment if she wouldn't be a good little girl and just come quietly with him?! 'Wait, I can use this to my advantage. The crowd thinks she works for Master. She will not want to break that illusion.' He smirked and dropped a few yards away from her and ran up to her.

"Low-key, Master wishes to see you." She turned around to face him.

"Who's that again?" Altaïr laughed.

"Ah, you are quite the humorist. I'll play along; it is Al Mualim that wishes to see you," his voiced dropped down to a whisper that only she heard. "It's best that you come along with me thief. I will not hesitate to expose you to the people of Masyaf if you do not come with me _right now_." She nodded and bowed to the crowd.

"It seems that Master requires my talents; I hoped you enjoyed the show." The throng clapped as she let herself be lead back to where Al Mualim was. "You're an assassin, no?" Altaïr stiffened, pulled her into an alleyway, and then shoved her into the wall with his arm resting against her neck.

"Templar wench!" She glared and spat at him.

"I don't even know what a Templar is. And where do you get off calling me a wench, you dog!" The two glared at each other before Altaïr grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. "Ow, what do you think you're doing? I'm not a sack you damn murderer!"

"Stop talking or so help me, I'll kill you."

"Those are big words for a pawn."

"Do you _fancy_ the idea of dying?" She started to pound on his back.

"Just wait till I get my knife out! I'm going to shank you so many times; you'll resemble Swiss cheese when I'm done with you!" Altaïr chuckled; this girl was proud and feisty to a fault. It was truly a shame that she would most likely die because she tried to kill Al Mualim. Altaïr walked to where Syrioan and Al Mualim were waiting and dropped the girl unceremoniously.

"Ow that hurt! You could have given me a warning you bum!"

"What do you wish to do with her, Master?"

"She is a liability,"

"Hey! I resent that statement; I would have killed you if flunky over here," She pointed at Altaïr before continuing. "Didn't stop me; so show me some respect, I'm not a liability."

"I do not like your tone, girl." Altaïr tensed; this was not good, he could feel it.

"And I do not like being treated as a burden only because I am a girl! I am just as good as your flunky if not better!" Loki fired back at Al Mualim.

"Fine; Altaïr take this _girl_ with you. Show her what it means to be an assassin and that she cannot hope to even try to compete with us," Altaïr opened his mouth to protest but Al Mualim continued giving orders. "Syrioan, seeing as you were the one to find her, help her with the equipment; I doubt the city guards would be less suspicious of someone so strangely dressed." Syrioan nodded and grabbed Loki's hand and lead her to the armory.

"Miss Disraeli, as Master Assassin Altaïr said, you are very foolish or brave to attack Master like that."

"It's not like I'm brave or an idiot, Syrioan-san. It's just that I learned to never trust anyone with a beard, and it's like his aura is malicious; as if he as ill intentions for everyone here." Syrioan cocked his head in puzzlement; Loki was strange, foreign, and even alien to him but that did make him recoil from her. It was that she didn't trust anyone that made him withdraw from her.

"Well, you can trust me, Miss Disraeli," Loki interrupted Syrioan.

"Loki; please Syrioan-kun, call me Loki. You unlike that butt munch have earned the right to use my first name." Syrioan nodded and continued.

"Many thanks for that, Loki. Ah, here we are; the armory. What type of weapon do you use?"

"Eh, don't know; I'm a thief. It's more steal and get the hell out for me; the switchblade I have I usually only use if necessary."

"I suppose you should just pick what catches your eye." Loki nodded and looked around at the weapons; many of them were engraved with animals and words in a language that she didn't understand.

"What does this say, Syrioan-kun?" Loki held a beautiful green sword that had shards of red in it with an inscription on it.

"It says 'Misericorde'. The sword is interesting, no? The blade is forged of bloodstone while the sheath is leather that was plated in aventurine. The hilt has the blue-eared glossy starlings and a Silver-backed jackal." Loki examined the hilt of the blade; the hilt was made of ebony. She looked at the animals that were carved in; the paint on them was slightly faded but still in good condition.

"It's beautiful," She looked at the sheath for the blade; it was reddish brown and seemed to have gold flecks in it. There wasn't much in the decorations; just a simple symbol that she had seen on flags, cloths, and building. She tested the blade; letting the arm that was holding it fall to her side, checking if the weight changed. The weight changed slightly but not significantly; Loki ran a finger down the blade, feeling for the sharpness. "Can I have this blade, Syrioan-kun?"

"I do not know if it would be good for you to have that blade; all who have had it have only experienced misery." She looked at the blade then at Syrioan.

"So it is a cursed blade?" Syrioan nodded slightly at her question.

"I do not think it cursed but the rest of the brotherhood does." Loki looked at him sharply.

"Then what do you think?" Syrioan smiled and held her hand and the sword.

"I believe that it is just waiting for the right owner and I believe that you may just be that person." Loki smiled at him and shook her hand out of his.

"I will take good care of Misericorde." Syrioan nodded and gently led Loki to where the assassin's cloths were kept. The weaver that was there gasped when Loki stepped though the doorway.

"Elite Assassin Syrioan; what are you doing bringing a girl here?"

"She is in need of the assassin's clothing. Al Mualim commands it." The weaver barked out an order to the young girl that was sewing.

"Leilah; fit this _girl_ for the assassin's clothes." The young girl nodded and ushered Loki to a fitting room. Leilah busied herself with measuring Loki while Loki zoned out. She wanted to leave; to go back to Aldine.

"Done; Miss, your clothes will be ready in a few days." Loki nodded and walked back to where Syrioan was. He was laughing and talking to another assassin.

"Did you hear about the celebration that Master Al Mualim is planning, Syrioan?"

"For the new year; yes I have heard about it, brother." Loki perked up; a party?

"I wonder what entertainment Master Al Mualim has chosen." Syrioan nodded in agreement.

"Ah brother you must be busy with arranging the feast."

"Yes I am I must be on my way. Farewell Syrioan; I'll see you at the celebration." Syrioan nodded and turned around to come face to face with Loki.

"There's going to be a party?"

"Ah, yes there is; plenty of dancing, singing, eating, and drinking." Loki smiled slightly and nodded.

"So are you going?"

"Ah, yes I am. It is required of all assassins to be there." Loki nodded; she was going to be here for a few more days, might as well go to the party.

"Do I have to dress all formality or can I just show up like how I'm right now?" Syrioan looked surprised at the question.

"Um…I do not know if you would be allowed to come…seeing as you attempted to assassinate Master…" Loki gave him an exasperated smile.

"Come on! What are a few assassination attempts between friends?" Syrioan sighed and shook his head. It was hard to say no to her; not because she was good-looking but because she had this atmosphere that just drew him towards her.

"Fine, but you'll have to have a chaperone. Perhaps Altaïr, seeing as the two of you are going to be traveling together," A look of horror passed on Loki's face as Syrioan continued. "I would be your chaperone in I could of course; but Miss Mikaila, finally agreed to go with me to the celebration. It took me forever to convince her; five years, Loki, five years! Do you know how long that is?"

"This is just a guess but five years?" Loki countered while smirking. Syrioan laughed; she got him there. "Just wondering but will I have to dance with Al-tie-ear?" Syrioan chuckled at the mispronunciation of Altaïr's name before answering Loki's question.

"Yes you will," She groaned while Syrioan continued. "You do not have to dance with him for the entire evening," A cheer erupted and died down quickly for Syrioan to continue. "However all assassins and their partners must dance together for the opening dance."

"Eh, can you teach me the dance? I don't want to look like an idiot; well more of one than I already did." Syrioan nodded and dragged her over to a group of novice assassins.

"You six; help me teach Miss Disraeli how the opening dance goes," The six nodded and paired up amongst themselves. Syrioan gently pulled Loki over to the empty spot at the head of the group. "First we join hands and circle to the left," The group joined hands and moved in a complete circle to the left. "Then we move into the square and back out," The group moved forward then back while Loki was getting a sinking feeling. "We now dosado; which is where you face your partner, move forward with your right shoulders passing, sideways back-to-back, then pass each other with the left shoulder" He nodded to a couple and they demonstrated. 'Yep, it's square dancing…' Loki thought sulkily.

"After that, we will allemande left with our corner,"

"That's enough; I know the dance you're talking about. When is the dance?" Syrioan looked at her astonished; her tone was irritated to say the least.

"Ah, it is at twilight. The attire will be semi-formal." Loki nodded and left Syrioan alone. He sighed and went to where Altaïr was practicing with his blade.

"Altaïr, I have a favor to ask of you."

"What is it, Syrioan?"

"Miss Disraeli wishes to attend tonight's celebration; however she is in dire need of a partner. I know however seeing as you rank above me in skill you do not have to do this for me but she is quite the ever-entertaining lady once you get to know her. And seeing as the two of you are now partners,"

"We are _not _partners. Nor will we ever be partners; I am only to teach that Templar wench a lesson." Syrioan scoffed and struck Altaïr across the face.

"Your arrogance was the downfall of you brother; do not let it ruin you yet again." Altaïr glared at the younger assassin and spat out his next words.

"Tch, well _brother_, thank you for your wisdom, I would be lost without it."

"Scorn will bring you nowhere, Altaïr. You would do well to remember that." Syrioan left Altaïr who was silently fuming about how disrespected he was. Meanwhile Loki was mingling around the marketplace. She didn't really have anything to wear to the celebration.

"Don't have address for tonight yet? Come; I have only the finest dresses!" She walked over to where a merchant was talking to a group of girls. She looked at the dresses at the merchant's stand. None really caught her eye; she sighed and skimmed over the dresses again as if hoping to find one that she liked.

"Miss, are you looking for a certain dress?" She looked up at the merchant. Damn, she hated to be put on the spotlight.

"Ah, yeah; I don't have a dress for tonight. Do you have any dresses that are; oh my god." She looked at the pale gray dress behind the merchant. It wasn't surprising or flashy but it captured the light and gave off a moon-kissed appearance. "How much is that dress?" She pointed at the dress and the merchant smiled.

"For you, 5 gold," Loki's face fell, she didn't have any money, and she didn't want to revert back to her normal ways just yet. The merchant noticed Loki's expression. "You are that singer from earlier, no?" She nodded puzzled at his sudden outburst. "My wife is having trouble with our newborn. The little one will not sleep if someone doesn't sing for him; my wife has not been able to sleep for weeks, if you could sing our babe to sleep, I will give you this dress in thanks." She smiled at the request. She loved singing.

"Sure, so where do you live?"

"Right down the street and take a left. It will be the house with a green door." She nodded and went to the house. A baby crying and a woman begging it to stop rang throughout the area. She smiled sadly and knocked on the door. A woman who looks like she was at her wit's end opened the door.

"Hi, the merchant told me that your baby will only sleep if someone sings to him. Do you mind?" The woman smiled in relief and ushered Loki into a dark room.

"I'll leave you to your work, Miss…"

"Disraeli; the name's Loki Disraeli, what is the baby's name, Miss?"

"Karim, Miss Disraeli; do you need anything?" Loki shook her head as she picked Karim and began rocking him while singing in a low voice.

"Have you ever thought about what protects our hearts?  
Just a cage of rib bones and other various parts.  
So it's fairly simple to cut right through the mess,  
And to stop the muscle that makes us confess." She continued rocking the baby and singing. The baby cooed and fell asleep; she gingerly set Karim down in his cradle and left the room.

"Is he asleep?"

"Yes, and should be for several days. He was very tired; goodbye." Loki left the house that was silent for once and the neighbors who saw her leave the house could swear that she was God-sent. She quieted the babe who would only cry and took her payment as a simple dress.

Several hours later Loki was linking arms with Altaïr. They walked though the gates and Loki gasped in amazement at the changes. Altaïr sighed and brought her over to a large clearing where other assassins and their partners were milling about. Loki spotted Syrioan and dragged Altaïr over to where Syrioan was.

"Syrioan-kun; it's good to see you; where is Mikaila-san?" Syrioan gestured to the girl standing next to him. She had fiery red hair and green eyes that seemed to have a tinge of gold. She had on a lavender dress that set her eyes off quite nicely.

"Hello, you must be Miss Disraeli; Syrioan told me of how you attempted to assassinate Al Mualim." Her voice was like honey; smooth and soft.

"Ah, yeah that would be me…" It set into an uneasy silence as Mikaila fiddled with the hem of a sleeve.

"So Loki, where did you get that dress? It matches you quite well." Syrioan broke the silence only to wince at loud his voice seemed.

"Ah, one of the merchants had it; but I think Mikaila's dress is much better. So when does the dance start?" Altaïr grabbed her hand and the two moved to the side across from a one-armed man and his date.

"It seems that fate will always shove me into the same place as you." Loki and the other girl looked between the two assassins glaring at each other.

"Malik, if you are still angry, stop; at least for tonight. Tonight is supposed to be about happiness and celebrating." Malik defiantly stared at Altaïr for a few moments before he replied angrily at Altaïr.

"How dare you try to quell my anger; it was your arrogance that cost me of my brother and arm."

"No it was not! If you did not stop me, Kadar would be alive and your arm would not be lying somewhere in shreds." Altaïr shot back heatedly. Malik glared and the volume in their argument rose.

"Hi, I'm Loki; who are you and what did we do to deserve this?" The girl giggled and stuck out her hand to shake.

"Nabih, unfortunately I do not know what we did to deserve our dates to fight. So how do you know Altaïr?" The two shook hands and watched as Malik and Altaïr fought about whose fault it was about what happened in Solomon's Temple.

"It was your arrogance!" The two assassins were now in each others faces.

"It was because you prevented me!" Malik looked like he was about to slap Altaïr with his good hand.

"Eh, this and that; do you think we should stop them, Nabih-chan?" The girl nodded and went over and grabbed Malik's good arm. Loki took a less gentle approach; she walked over to Altaïr and kicked him in the back of the leg. Altaïr fell to the ground into a more unassuming position.

"Not going to try to piss Malik-san off again, are ya?" Altaïr stood up and brushed the dirt off of his clothing. He roughly grabbed Loki's upper arm and brought her back to the square, then the music started.

"Join hands and circle left. Now move in together and back; dosado and allemande left with that sweet corner girl. Promenade," It wasn't that holding hands with Altaïr was weird but she could feel where he was missing a finger; feel the calluses on his hands, calluses from training to be an assassin, and calluses that were just there as a reminder of what he has done, the people he killed, the lives stolen, the families broken, and every building he climbed were all in those little calluses. "Reverse single file; ladies in front," She sighed and walked in front of Altaïr. She didn't know if he had any weapons on him; for all she knew he was going to shank her any minute now. It was nerve-racking, having to walk in front of an assassin who just happened to chose to stay out of her peripheral vision. The dance ended quickly much to the relief of Loki. She quickly walked over to where Malik was.

"What is it that a wench of that damn assassin Altaïr wants from me?" Loki looked sharply at Malik.

"Nothing; I didn't come to talk with an ass like you. I just want to talk to Nabih-chan." Nabih smiled and spoke to Loki.

"Please forgive Malik for his rudeness,"

"It's fine; I never really cared what others said about me. So how close are you and Malik-san?" Nabih blushed a deep red and the two giggled while Malik looked puzzled.

"Malik, have you ever seen Altaïr drunk?"

"No, he does not drink. What are you thinking of Nabih?"

* * *

I only own charaters you haven't heard of, like Nabih. So I don't own Malik, Altaïr, Al Mualim or anyone else I forgot.


End file.
